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**T. Rex - T. Rex**
★★★★☆

In the annals of rock history, few transformations have been as dramatic or as consequential as Marc Bolan's metamorphosis from whimsical folk troubadour to glittering glam rock deity. The album that captured this chrysalis moment was 1970's "T. Rex" – a record that didn't just mark a name change from Tyrannosaurus Rex, but announced the birth of an entirely new beast altogether.

By 1970, Bolan had grown restless with the acoustic mysticism that had defined his earlier incarnation. The hippy dream was curdling, and the diminutive poet from Hackney could sense the cultural winds shifting. Where Tyrannosaurus Rex had dealt in pastoral fantasies and Tolkienesque imagery, this new creature would prowl the urban jungle with electric teeth bared. The addition of Mickey Finn's percussion had already begun to add rhythmic muscle to the duo's sound, but it was Bolan's decision to plug in that truly changed everything.

"T. Rex" stands as a fascinating bridge between two worlds – one foot still planted in the acoustic realm of "Unicorn" and "A Beard of Stars," the other stepping boldly into the electric future that would soon make Bolan the biggest pop star in Britain. The album's genius lies in how it manages this transition without losing the essential magic that made Bolan special in the first place. His gift for crafting mythic imagery remains intact, but now it's powered by Marshall stacks rather than gentle acoustic strumming.

The record opens with "The Children of Rarn," a track that could have comfortably sat on any Tyrannosaurus Rex album, all mystical nonsense and finger-picked guitar. But by the time we reach "Jewel," the transformation is already underway. Here, Bolan's vocals take on a new swagger, backed by a rhythm section that hints at the boogie to come. It's pop music, certainly, but pop music filtered through Bolan's unique prism of cosmic absurdity.

"Elemental Child" represents the album's creative peak, a perfect synthesis of Bolan's poetic sensibilities and his growing appetite for rock and roll thunder. The track builds from gentle beginnings into something approaching a rave-up, with Bolan's voice soaring over layers of electric guitar that seem to shimmer with stardust. It's here that you can hear the blueprint for "Electric Warrior" being sketched out in real time.

The album's most prescient moment comes with "Mambo Sun," a track that wouldn't sound out of place on any of the classic T. Rex albums that followed. The boogie is fully formed here, complete with Bolan's trademark vocal hiccups and a guitar tone that would become his signature. When he purrs "It's all right, it's all right," you believe him completely – this is an artist who has found his true calling.

Less successful are moments like "The Wizard," which feels like a regression to earlier forms without the conviction that made those forms work. Similarly, "The Time of Love Is Now" suffers from an overly earnest delivery that sits awkwardly alongside the album's more playful moments. These tracks serve as reminders of what Bolan was leaving behind, but they lack the transformative power of the album's stronger material.

What makes "T. Rex" enduringly fascinating is how it captures an artist in transition without feeling tentative or uncertain. Bolan's confidence never wavers, even as he's essentially reinventing himself in real time. The production, handled by Tony Visconti, strikes the perfect balance between the intimate acoustic sound of the past and the larger-than-life electric sound of the future.

In retrospect, "T. Rex" feels almost quaint compared to the full-blown glam assault of "Electric Warrior" or the pop perfection of "The Slider." But that's precisely what makes it special – it's the sound of a genius figuring out his next move, and having the courage to follow through on it. The album sold modestly upon release, but its influence on what followed cannot be overstated.

Today, "T. Rex" stands as a crucial document of one of British rock's most important evolutionary moments. It's the missing link between the underground and the mainstream, between the earnest and the ironic, between Marc Bolan the poet and Marc Bolan the pop star. In short, it's the sound of a T.